


Don't Wanna Go to Heaven Without Raisin' Hell

by redtailedhawk90



Category: The Room Where It Happened (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Heist, POV Multiple, Rated T for language and Molly being lewd, S2: The Bleed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtailedhawk90/pseuds/redtailedhawk90
Summary: “I’ll be ‘less aggressive’ when you start talking, Miss McGhee. The Golden Nebula is missing a king’s ransom of cred, and I would ‘mighty grateful’ if you could explain to me what your fingerprints are doing all over the vault door.”or,The Wyvern crew are investigated regarding their suspicious activity after a casino heist.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Secret Druids of the Stones 2020 (A Standing Stones Fanwork Exchange)





	Don't Wanna Go to Heaven Without Raisin' Hell

“All right, now listen honeybuns, you don’t gotta be so aggressive about it. You got me trapped in this here conference room; I ain’t going nowhere fast.” Molly smiles sweetly at the officer across the table from her. “Of course, if you wanted to clear up this big misunderstanding and let me go, I’d be  _ mighty _ grateful.”

The officer in question--a haggard person in a UPRC uniform who Molly figured had never seen the right side of a bed, much less woken up on it--leaned back in vis chair and crossed vis arms. “I’ll be ‘less aggressive’ when you start talking, Miss McGhee. The Golden Nebula is missing a king’s ransom of cred, and I would  _ ‘mighty  _ grateful’ if you could explain to me what your fingerprints are doing all over the vault door.” Ve sat forward again and punctuated vis words by stabbing at the folder between them with a finger. 

Molly sticks her lower lip out in a pout and cants her shoulders, causing one of the straps on her red satin dress to slide off. Looking up at the officer from under her eyelashes, she is rewarded by the faint creep of red up from under vis collar. “Just between you and me, honeybuns,” she says in a conspiratorial whisper, “‘cause I don’t want to get him in trouble or nothin’, you understand--I’ve been having a little bit of a  _ fling _ with one of Baron Carter’s security guards.” 

The officer raises one eyebrow and motions for her to continue.

“Anyway,” says Molly at a more regular volume, “I’m not one to kiss and tell, but when that man gets going, shew Lordt!” She winks. “It’s enough to drive a girl crazy, y’know? And while I’m not exactly an exhibitionist…” Trailing off, she stretches languidly--or as languidly as she can, since she’s been sitting in this metal chair for two hours, dammit, and her muscles are cramping. “Let’s just say I was searching for somethin’ to hold on to.”

\---

“And how long have you been employed at the Nebula?”

Dee examines her fingernails, feigning nonchalance. “About three weeks. Am I free to go?” The officer questioning her makes a noncommittal noise, writing the information down in a small notebook. He looks up and gives her what he probably thinks is a winning smile. 

“I just have a few more questions for you, Miss Harper. It won’t take long,” he says. 

_ That’s a yes, then, _ TAC scoffs.  _ He doesn’t have anything to hold you with. _ Dee crosses her arms and pushes off from the pillar she was leaning against--they’re standing out front of the casino, under its fake “historical” architecture. 

“Did you transfer here from another casino?” the officer continues, ignoring the small steps Dee is making to end the conversation. He matches her, angling his body to keep her engaged.

“Yeah, the Grand over on Durham,” she replies. “Now, I really need to be going--” The officer grabs her elbow as she tries to march past, bringing her to a halt. She stops, somewhat stunned, and looks down at his hand. Just as quickly, he withdraws it, looking for all the world that he hadn’t done anything.

“Just one more thing, Miss Harper.”

_ Careful, Dee. He  _ really _ doesn’t want to let us go. Stall him while I run some numbers. _

“Well, I suppose I can give you a couple more minutes,” Dee says sourly. The officer smiles again, and Dee has to suppress the urge to draw her concealed pistol and kneecap him there and then.

“The records I have here say that your table has the lowest payout on the entire floor,” he says.

“Is it? Interesting.”

“Yeah, it is. People  _ always lose  _ at your table. Every time.”

“That  _ is _ how casinos function, officer.” Dee barely stops herself from rolling her eyes. “How does this have anything to do with the robbery?”

“No, it’s  _ not _ how casinos function. Gamblers are an incredibly superstitious lot, Miss Harper. A good dealer knows that if players always lose, they’ll start to avoid the table altogether. And that’s bad for business--”

_ \--I think I might have something-- _

“--unless your business isn’t to make the casino money. Unless you want folks to linger as little as possible. Unless you don’t want anyone to know your name or face, to be able to pick you out from a crowd.”

_ \--tell him we don’t have time for his speculation. Tell him he ought to go back to his cruiser if he doesn’t want his superiors to find the stimpaks he’s hiding away there. Wouldn’t do to be high on the job. _

Dee repeats the lines TAC feeds her, and draws herself up tall--or as tall as she can manage, anyway--when the officer starts to bluster. She makes a show of looking over his shoulder at the detective who is opening up passenger side of the cruiser, coffee in one hand and a manila envelope under its arm. As the officer glances back to follow her gaze, the detective pull open the glove compartment and begins digging around for something. Dee raises her eyebrows at the man in front of her.

“I won’t take up any more of your time then, hm?” she says. She’s barely finished with the sentence when the officer excuses himself and rushes over to the detective.

\---

“Where is my WINTER unit!” Kerry has on their best Karen face as they stride purposefully towards the detective. The detective looks up sharply at their shout, distracted from its conversation with an officer next to it. It holds up its hands in a placating gesture.

“I’m sorry, and you are?” it asks.

“Doctor Kerry Moran,” Kerry says with a sniff. “I heard the casino’s been robbed! Are you the detective on the case? What is your name?”

“Well, Doctor Moran, I am Detective Seek-Wisdom Lorenson.” It made a shooing gesture at the other officer and turned to face Kerry fully. “We are investigating an incident that occurred involving the casino’s vault. I can assure you no one was harmed, and the Golden Nebula has policies to cover your winnings, if that is what you are concerned about.”

“I don’t  _ care _ if anyone was harmed,” Kerry says. They lean forward and jab at the detective’s chest, stopping just short of touching it. “I need to know where my WINTER unit is! I was told this casino has the strongest security in the Bleed! Do you have  _ any idea _ how much a properly antique WINTER unit is worth? Baron Carter assured me it would be safe here, and then not three days after I allow him to store it here, his casino is robbed? This is unbelievable!”

“Doctor Moran, we have a list of items that were stolen. I can assure you--”

“Oh no you don’t!” Kerry interrupted. They’re picking up steam. The onlookers beyond the yellow police tape, curiosity already piqued by the event, turn their attention to the scene unfolding between them and the detective. “I have had enough  _ assurances _ for a lifetime! I bet this was all a scheme! He convinces me to store my valuables here, and then he robs himself  _ and _ collects the insurance! Are you lot in on it too?”

The detective fumbles for a communicator on its hip and mumbles something into it, and then to Kerry says, “The WINTER unit wasn’t stolen, Doctor Moran. We’re just holding it for evi--”

“Oh, so you mean it just hasn’t been stolen  _ yet!  _ Don’t think I don’t know how deep y’all are in Baron Carter’s pockets! Everyone knows it! I bet this whole ‘investigation’ is a farce! Did ‘the Baron of the Bleed’ promise you a cut? What did he tell you to do? Pretend like there was a robbery so you can take the vault’s contents as ‘evidence’ and then make it disappear into your bureaucratic, labyrinthine offices? Millions! That’s how much that WINTER unit is worth! I’ll tan it out of your hide if I have to, don’t think that I won’t!”

At that moment, two men in uniform come out of the double doors of the front lobby. Between them is WINTER, walking placidly. “You see, Doctor Moran,” the detective says, pinching the bridge of its nose. “It’s perfectly fine. In fact, we’ll let you take it home right now, as a show of good faith. I’ll just need you to sign this release form.”

Kerry flashes a brilliant smile. “Now see, was that all so hard? Why didn’t you just say that in the first place? Of course I’ll sign your form, honey.” WINTER stops next to them and Kerry pats their arm. “Don’t you worry, dearie, we’ll get you somewhere safe.” The two of them leave Detective Lorenson and its officers blinking from the whiplash.

\---

Owain grins as, one by one, their crew piles into the van they rented. WINTER and Kerry are last, and as soon as they are safely inside, Owain carefully guides the overloaded vehicle away from the casino. Between WINTER and all of the tech they stuffed into this thing, they’re glad they don’t have to do any fancy driving--even one speedbump would absolutely ruin the undercarriage.

Everyone remains quiet the whole way back to the Wyvern. It’s as if no one wants to breathe too deeply and jinx their getaway. Once the bay doors close behind them, however, Molly whoops and punches the air.

“YES!” she cries. “That felt so good! Sweet fuck, y’all, that was incredible!” Kerry laughs out loud, Owain sighs dramatically, and even Dee giggles a little. Molly is right--the victory feels good, feels heady.

“All right, WINTER,” Owain says. “Let’s get all that off of ya.”

“I would very much like that, Owain,” WINTER says. “Although I have seen videos in which humans use weighted clothing in order to train themselves to be stronger. When they take the weights off, they are more capable because they feel lighter.”

“I don’t know if it’s the same with robots,” Owain says, snickering only a little.

They carefully remove WINTER’s plating, taking their time and checking in with WINTER regularly. WINTER recounts their thrilling adventure, telling the side of the story that Owain couldn’t see from their vantage point in the van. Owain is so incredibly proud of them. Of all of them, really, but especially WINTER. 

Each piece of plating that comes off reveals the burnished, golden brown glimmer of metal: copper, stuffed into every crack and crevice of WINTER’s chassis. Pounds and pounds and pounds of copper. A king’s ransom worth of copper.

“All right, Kerry,” Owain says as they remove the last bit of their haul from WINTER’s body. “Break out the good stuff, because tonight we celebrate!”

**Author's Note:**

> Profuse thanks to @jadeoxfordrose for their help dragging this out of my brain and onto the page!


End file.
